


Keith's Rare Finds

by ahhfic



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Banter, Gen, How Do I Tag, M/M, and for that im sorry, except for lance thinking keith is hot, how can you have a fic of these two and not have banter you know?, not even a hint of romancy smancy feelings in this, this is basically the beginning of an enemies to lovers trope, this is complete shit wrote and read through once in the span of a day, this is kind of cracky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:48:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22060570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ahhfic/pseuds/ahhfic
Summary: It’s an unseasonably warm winter morning the day Lance and Hunk decide to take a road trip to a town three hours away.(Or Lance finds the flea market of his dreams (literally). If only the owner wasn't so rude.)
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 31





	Keith's Rare Finds

**Author's Note:**

> listen, i've been wanting to write a fic where it's focal point is around a flea market after i went to this one that was basically other wordly back in the summer time and i finally wrote something. the whole dream thing is another fic idea i had and i decided to combine the two.
> 
> obviously i didn't put too much time into this and this is really only the beginning of this whole idea i had. i might expand and continue it if people want me to.

Lance has had the same dream almost every night of his life for as long as he can remember. It’s of a shop full of the oddest things, mostly used, and there’s always a black kitten walking around. Sometimes the items are moved around or sometimes replaced with something new. Most of the time the kitty will rub it’s body against his legs in greeting and Lance always bends down to say hello back. And sometimes there’s soft music coming from the back. The only consistent thing about this dream is that it’s the same store. Lance could draw the outline of the two story shop, knows exactly where the front windows are, knows exactly where the support beams are and where exactly the built in shelves where on the first floor.

He’s never actually see the front of the shop though. The dream always begins right when he steps in. Sometimes he’ll just walk around and gaze at the stuff. A few of his favorite finds are a musical jewelry box with a ballerina inside, two small vintage radios in matching pastel red and blue (Lance has tried many times to find them on the internet), cute little handmade glass jewelry with flowers in them, and most precious to him is these little figurines of robotic lions from a cartoon he watched growing up. Sometimes he’ll actually hold on to things like he might buy them.  
But never, not once in the many times he’s had this odd dream has he made it to the back where the cashier is. The dream always cuts off right before he makes it to the counter. And once Lance became aware that this was a thing, he wondered why. This has been the only thing that haunts him about it. He’s tried falling back asleep to continue, but it never works. 

And what’s that they say about how when you become aware you’re in a dream, you’re able to control it? Well that’s a lie. Lance has tried many times once he became aware to make it to the counter just to see if it will continue purely to satisfy his confusion and curiosity. But it’s like he’s destined to never get there because he’s always woken up by his siblings or his alarm or the fucking ghost of Christmas Past.

“Lance!” His sister’s head pokes into his room. “Hunk’s here.”

And that’s when he realizes he woke up late. He bolts out of his bed and pulls on the first pair of jeans he sees, which happened to be from yesterday so they should fine. Or at least he hopes so. He pulls on shoes and beelines for the bathroom to quickly brush his teeth, and forgets to wet down his hair. He grabs a water bottle from the fridge and gives his mom a kiss on her check before heading out. 

When he climbs into Hunk’s car and turns to him after shutting the door, he’s finally able to take a breath. 

Hunk squints his eyes at him and sighs, “Just woke up?”

Lance simply grins back at him. 

~

Somehow they managed to make a three hour trip to the town where Hunk’s friend Shay lives in under two. 

Lance stares at his best friend. 

Hunk bats him away. “Don’t give me that look. I was only going 5 over the speed limit.”

“Hey, I get it, man. You’re anxious to see your lady,” Lance teases.

Hunk winces. “She’s not my lady.”

Lance can’t help himself and comments back, “Yet.”

Hunk just rolls his eyes at him. “Okay, dude. So where are we even going? What was your reason for tagging along again? Other than to pester me.”

Lance laughs lightly. “I wanted to check out their downtown. I heard they have the best candy store in this region.”

Hunk gestures for him to lead the way. 

This small town’s down town area is surprisingly busy with a lot of tourist. It obviously consists of shops and restaurants but Lance wasn’t expecting the little park area with benches and tables with huge ass trees right next to it, but it’s cute and blends in perfectly. The main road is lined with two story buildings on either side. Most of them are flea markets with restaurants peppered in between. He spots the chocolate store right away, with the sign Candy-Chocolate-Cakes hanging from it’s roof. Lance bounces from foot to foot when he sees it. “There it is!” They cross the road from the parking lot to the store. 

Lance holds the door for Hunk to go in, because he is nothing but a gentleman. Inside, his mouth immediately waters at the smell of the chocolate. The first thing he sees is a display case in the center with an assortment of rainbow themed sweets. He’s instantly drawn to it and begins picking out things that catch his eye. Which is everything. 

Lance already knows he’ll be feeling that buyer’s remorse later tonight, but that doesn’t stop him. 

“Dude, they got suckers with crickets in them,” Hunk says faintly, and Lance looks up at him to see he’s a little green. Lance looks down at the offending suckers. “Cool! Hey, grab me a couple. Think my brothers would like those, yeah?” 

Lance walks over to him. “I wonder if they’ve got chocolate cover cherries here.”

Hunk looks away from the cricket suckers to the back of the store. He opens his mouth, about to say something when a voice speaks behind them. “Hunk?” A girl voice. 

Lance turns around to see none other than Hunk’s friend Shay. She has a bag from the store hanging off her wrist while she tugs on her sleeve.

Hunk’s back goes ram rod straight. “Shay!” 

Lance eyes his friend, trying to convey the message to chillax to him. Hunk doesn’t pick it up. He’s too busy ogling Shay. Lance huffs and rolls his eyes. One sight of her and he turns into a bumbling fool. Hunk glances over to him, remembering he’s there too and points to Lance. “Lance came along,” He starts out and then unnecessarily continues, “for the candy.”

If Lance weren’t in the presence of a girl like Shay he would’ve smacked his own forehead in slight exasperation and then Hunk’s too. 

“Don’t worry. I won’t be impeding on your date,” Lance says, knowing full well how they’ll both respond.

They rush to say, “It’s not a date.” Both of them a little flustered. Then they both look at each other like there’s more they want to say but definitely not in Lance’s presence. 

Lance gets it. He’s been in the date-not-a-date stage before with past flings. “Whateves,” He hitches a thumb over to the brownies. “I’m gonna go check those out now. Hunk, call me when it’s time to head back. It was nice to see you again, Shay.”

“You too, Lance.”

~

After racking up on sweets to last him the rest of the week, Lance decides to check out a few of the flea markets since he has to kill a few hours.  
He’s already been to the flea markets back home enough to find them boring so the opportunity to check out new ones is always exciting. He would have to admit since he literally dreams of a second hand store, he’s always been open to owning used stuff. There’s nothing wrong or creepy about it like some people think (Pidge). 

Sometimes he wonders if the dream is like a calling. Like owning a store like that is what he’s meant to do after college. This kind of thinking is probably what influenced him to pursue a business degree.

The first one he goes to is a text book version of what a flea market is. Booths lined up, all partitioned with used bookshelves, all with their own little theme, and all of them are probably by locals in the area. One booth has vintage dolls with glass eyes and Lance averts his as he hurries past it. One has home decor that clearly came out of a Hobby Lobby and is ridiculously priced. One is just full of metal signs. The kind you see hanging everywhere in mom and pop bbq restaurant. One booth is like a mini consignment shop, probably ran by an extreme couponer’s. (Lance like to try to spot those. Every flea market’s got one.) Most are just a variety of things people probably are trying to get rid off. He finds a little bird ornament for their Christmas tree and buys it.

He continues down the sidewalk, slowly making a dent in his homemade salt water taffy. And then he spots it across the road. A faded blue two story building with a sign that reads Rare Finds above the door. 

It’s just screams, “Lance, come to me!”

So he does. He crosses the road and upon entering the shop, he is hit with a sudden feeling of familiarity for this place even though he’s never been here. There are shelves along the wall and a few in the open filled with, at first glance, cool shit. 

Then Lance is surprised when something soft rubs against his leg. He looks down to see a black kitten with bright orange eyes starring back up at him. Lance instantly reaches down to pet behind his ear. “Hello, you little thing.”

Lance stands back up to look around some more. It’s when he’s in the left corner, looking at the window display, when he gets that feeling again. It continues on the further he goes in. But weird feeling aside, Lance is in love with this place. It’s not until he sees the little lion figurines in a glass case in the middle of the store, that he’s realizes this store is exactly like the one is his dreams. Down to the support beams. 

Lance touches the glass, wanting to get closer to the little figurines. He must get them, but there’s not a price tag anywhere around them. He decides to ask about them when he finds the owner. 

After his discovery, he has a second look around the store and comes to the conclusion that this is without a doubt exactly like the one in his dreams, especially his most recent ones.

He walks around, touching everything, exhilarated to finally experience this place in the flesh. He breathes in a sweet flowery scent and Lance wonders how that is even possible for a second hand store when they usually smell a little funky. 

He doesn’t find a musical jewelry box or little pastel colored radios, but he does find worry stones and handmade soaps and flowery jewelry. He picks out a pink flowered glass piece for his older sister and lemon scented soap for his mom and a worry stone for himself. 

He spends a good hour, searching both floors and finds a wooden box with a secret compartment and an a military jacket that is so comfortable, Lance just leaves it on and continues shopping. 

When he decides he’s done, even though he could spend all day in here, he notices it getting dark outside, meaning he’ll need to meet up with Hunk soon. 

He will definitely be making the trip back up here now that he knows this place is real. 

On his way back down the stairs, he stops. In his dreams, this was always where they ended. Lance knows this isn’t a dream, but he still holds his breath as he continues his way back down to the first floor. The counter where the cash register sits is somewhat hidden in the back, a large shelving unit blocking it’s view from the front of the store. Lance sits his stuff down on the counter and looks around for somebody but the store is empty.

“Hello?” Lance asks out loud. 

“Coming.” It’s man’s voice that comes from a back room where the door is slightly ajar and light spills out into the main area. Lance realizes then that store’s lighting getting dimmer the further back you go. He notices a lot of the bulbs on the ceiling are out and most of the light comes from lamps all around the store. It gives off a nice warm homey feel. 

The kitten jumps up onto the counter and walks around his stuff to plop down beside it. Lance reaches out to pet it again. Movement out of his peripheral has his eyes wandering away from the kitten though. 

And then things start making a whole lotta sense to Lance as to why he’s never made it this far in his dreams. If he had of known such a gorgeous specimen of a man was behind this counter, he would’ve probably gone crazy. He’s not as tall as Lance and has a slightly smaller built, but he’s lean with natural muscles and good posture. He has shiny black hair that looks so smooth Lance wants to touch it _badly_. The mullet style doesn’t even look bad on him. Lance has found the only other people in this world who can pull off that ‘do besides Billy Ray Cyrus. His eyes don’t go unnoticed either. 

In all of Lance’s ogling, he fails to see the man getting agitated, shifting from one foot to another. He crosses his arms. “Can I help you?”

Lance finally pulls out of his stupor and looks up at the man’s eyes again. And then he opens his big mouth and promptly puts his foot in it. “I’ve been dreaming of this flea market since I was little and now I know why. It has lead me to you.” Wait, what? _What the hell did he just say?_

He clears his throat and his head in hopes to recover from that slip up. “Hi. I’m Lance.”

The man’s eye brows knit together in confusion, but Lance detects a bit of annoyance as well. “Um, okay. One, are you buying anything? And two, this isn’t a flea market,” He says offensively, “It’s an antique store.”

Lance looks down at his soap. “This soap is antique?”

The man blinks at him and eventually sighs, bringing a hand up to his face to rub at the bridge of his nose. “No. The soap is handmade by a friend. I let her sell it in the store.” 

He starts to ring up his items and Lance is still so dumbfounded by his beauty, he almost forgets.

“Hey, how much are the little lions?” Lance points in the direction of the display case. “I couldn’t find a price tag.” 

The guy haughtily replies, “They’re not for sale.”

Lance gapes at him. “Then why are they in the store?” Even though this guy is beautiful enough to rival Adonis himself, his attitude is shit. Why would his dreams lead him to such a rude person?

He looks up and gives Lance a long look like he’s assessing him. “For people to look at them.”

“That’s what museums are for. This is a shop, ain’t it?” 

The guys breathes hard like he’s two seconds away from coming around the counter to kick Lance’s ass all the way to the door. “Look, they’re a collectors item and it took my father years to find them. I’m not about to sell them to someone who calls them ‘little lions’ and doesn’t even know what they’re from.”

_Okay, judgy much._ Affronted, Lance crosses his arms and scoffs at the guy. “Uh, yeah, I do. A cartoon that ran in the 80’s called Voltron.”

The man’s mouth falls open just a little. And even though Lance proved him wrong, the guy still argues that he can’t sell them to Lance. He is just about to open his mouth to finally give this guy a piece of his mind when he interrupts him. The guy rolls his eyes one last time at Lance and mutters, “32.15” 

Lance didn’t hear him. “What?” 

The guy looks back up at him and Lance see the underlying seething in his eyes. “Your total is 32.15.”

“Oh, right.” Lance digs out his wallet from his back pocket and proceeds to hand over two twenties. The bills almost rip with the force the man uses to grab it out of his hands. Lance watches him while he picks out his change and practically throws it on the counter in front of Lance. 

“Such a jerk,” He mutters under his breath as he turns around. And then he faced with the reality that he’s leaving the place that was a haven to him for many years in his dreams. He still can’t believe this place is real. If only the owner wasn’t such a jack ass. Lance understands now why his subconscious would never let him get to the counter for check out now. It was protecting him and the store’s ambience from it’s rude ass owner behind it. 

He takes one last glance around the shop and even though Lance is still in a sour mood after that whole ordeal, his heart weeps at the thought of leaving. He turns around and defiantly stares down the owner. “I’ll be back,” He vehemently declares then pauses. The owner regards him with a look of indifference. “And I will be buying those Voltron lions next time!”

The guy huffs. “Yeah, okay,” He says in a sarcastic tone. 

Lance heavily stomps out of the store and down the sidewalk towards the parking lot. In his stewing, he doesn’t notice Hunk is already sitting in his car. Lance is just about to lean against the hood when the horn goes off, making him jump. Through the windshield he sees Hunk laughing at him.  
“Very funny,” He grumbles as he climbs in. Hunk, the ever so perspective friend he is, notices Lance’s foul mood. 

“Yo, what happened to you?”

Lance has half a mind to not answer and just glare out the window for the entire ride but _fuck that_. He needs to vent.

“I just met the rudest store owner in the entire god damn nation,” He tells Hunk all about the young hot store owner with the purple eyes. About the little Voltron lions and how he wouldn’t sell them to Lance.

“Say, when’s the next time you’re coming here?”

Hunk cautiously answers, “Next weekend, why?”

“Cause I’m coming with you.”

Lance will get his hands on those lions, even if it takes him weeks to convince that jerk owner.

**Author's Note:**

> is is weird to say i wish flea markets where a trope like tattoo shops or floral shops or coffee shops etc. like i could spend all day going shopping in them and find some of the coolest shit.


End file.
